


Never Out Of Style

by Maelig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I'm new to this, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maelig/pseuds/Maelig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has an important presentation the next day and she should really be working. Or sleeping. Not riding a broom in the middle of the night with a firery redhead. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Out Of Style

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all !  
> This is the very first fic I actually publish online. I really hope you enjoy it. There might be more to come !

I almost jumped when the digital clock beeped once on the far wall. How long have I been sitting here ? _Oh, right_ , just about two hours. I stretch my arms and make my back bones pop, looking back out the window of my tiny flat. I should be sleeping. Tomorrow’s a big day, and I just know I’m going to be cranky. As Harry would put it, cranky Hermione is his least favourite. Screw him. I grab a cigarette while looking back to my notes. I light it distractedly and watch as the thick smoke dances in front of me before being pulled outside by the window. I’m not reading anything, just looking at random words trying to figure out why I put them there anyway. _I’m being useless_. I should really get sleeping, but I don’t think the urge is going to come anytime soon.

I just feel so … Restless.

Tomorrow is my big day. I’ll have the entire Wizengamot’s undivided attention for a full fifteen minutes, just long enough to convince them my law project on Centaur rights will actually benefit the old geezers. I’ve been working on this for months, eighty hours a week on the good weeks, and it could make or break me. But somehow tonight I can’t seem to concentrate on any of that. I blow out my last puff of bluish smoke and press the butt of my fag into the ashtray, almost angrily. I need a distraction.

I hop off the windowsill, considering whether Luna would be up for some exploding snap. Probably already out dancing. Even if she had brought the muggle phone I got her -unlikely- I doubt she would hear it, or think about answering it. I head to the kitchen area to pour myself a cup of tea, just to realise I forgot to turn the lights on. _Right_. That neon sign across the street is so bright I don’t need anything else when I’m by the window, but anywhere else in the flat is a different story. _But the place is cheap_. I flick my wand at the ceiling and blink a few times when the room becomes visible. I’m about to reach for the kettle when something else on the counter catches my eye. It’s a bottle of wine Ginny brought over some time ago and I never got around to drinking it. This might help me shake off that nagging feeling of emptiness.

A few minutes later, I’m settled on my bed, glass of cheap French red in a hand and my tattered copy of Hogwarts : A History in the other. The chapter on Cromwell always makes me sleepy for some unknown reason. I chuckle. _Like I still need excuses to read that book_. Absolute favourite would be an understatement. I take a sip of wine to discover it’s better than I expected. I ease a little more into the pillow separating my back from the wall and fall into my book.

Something just rang. I blink, brows furrowed, and try to get back to reality. Who in Merlin’s name calls at midnight? I grab my phone off the wooden table it was charging on, but the screen is not turned on, and it’s not buzzing either. What then ? Another ring soon shakes the last bits of my reading out of my eyes and I’m even more confused now. There’s someone at my door. Could be bad. I grab my wand and hide it against my pyjama bottoms’ elastic band. It’s been four years since the war ended and I’m still expecting Death Eaters to pop up everywhere. One day, I’ll probably have to see a shrink about that. In the meantime, I make my way to the door as silently as I can and press my ear against the wooden surface.

I can hear a familiar, deep breathing on the other side, but I still have to ask.

“Who is it?”

“Wotcher, freckles!”

The voice has a bit of a slur to it, probably brought by a few too many butterbeers, but I instantly know who it is. I should have expected it. But then again, it has been a really long time. I open the door, arms crossed.

“How come I’m ‘freckles’ when you’re the one covered in them head to toe?”

He just laughs. He’s standing straight, but I can see it costs him.

“Miss me?”

Not answering questions. Typical. I sigh, trying to look annoyed, but I don’t think I could completely erase the smile from my lips.

“What are you doing here, Charlie?”

He gives me one of his ridiculously gorgeous smiles and I know I could’ve found a very decent distraction.

“How long has it been, Hermione?” He’s leaning against the door frame now.

Again, he’s not answering. I shrug. I guess I got used to it a long time ago, but it’s still a little annoying. It’s okay, two can play this game.

“Are you drunk?” His smile just grows a little wider.

“Wanna go for a ride, freckles? I feel like it’s been years since we’ve been out.”

I close my eyes for just a second. Bad idea. Last time he showed up like that… But then my mind is going over all the good parts again. _Stop it. Don’t say yes. Wizengamot tomorrow_. I know exactly where this could lead. I look at him and realise his eyes are on me. I can’t pinpoint why, but he always makes me think of James Dean when he looks at me that way. I hear myself speaking before my brain can send the signal.

“Yeah… Sure. Let me just put real clothes on.” I close the door before I can say anything else.

_Fffffuck._

I know I should’ve said no. I am completely aware that this is a mistake. I’ve made it before. But I can never help it. I think he knows it, too. But I guess it’s too late to back down, and maybe this time will be different. That’s what I always tell myself. And then I run straight back the minute he calls. Pathetic.

I thread my fingers through my hair. Messy curls as usual, no use doing anything about that. I’m in the middle of taking off my pants looking around for something to wear when I realise I didn’t even invite him in. _Well, guess he’ll have to wait_. Maybe when I open the door again he’ll be gone and I won’t go down the rabbit hole this time. I slip on a skirt and blouse and a glint on my nightstand reminds me I never finished that glass of wine. Would be a shame to waste it. I grab it and down the contents in my mouth. Looks like he’s pretty hammered, might as well catch up. The liquid is rough against my throat and it makes me cough, but the bottled courage sends me a jolt of energy I’ll probably be needing. After half a second of heavy thinking, I grab the bottle and take an extra chug that makes me blink. I glance in the mirror. Never took off my make up and it still looks half decent if you don’t count the circles under my eyes. I shrug. It’s not nice to keep people waiting.

He’s still there when I open the door and Alohomora it behind me. He’s sitting against the wall and grinning up at me with mischief painted across the face.

“Thought for a moment you wouldn’t come out again.”

I wink. He needs reassurance, then? That’s a little new.

“Thought so too, but then here I am.” I put out a hand to help him up and I can almost feel the sparks shoot out when our skins first make contact, rough hands on my delicate paper-pusher palm. Nothing has changed, has it?

He pulls himself up and starts walking for the stairs, but he doesn’t let go of my hand just yet. He brushes his thumb against it before releasing me to grab the bannister. I feel cold, all of a sudden, but I won’t show him what he just did worked. We walk down the six flights of stairs in silence save for the loud steps that echo in the wooden staircase. When we reach the exit he glances back at me, and there’s that look again. It has my head buzzing lightly. He takes my hand again with a smile. I raise an eyebrow, but I’m not arguing.

He stumbles towards the broom I know he hid behind the rosebush and I realise that skirt I’m wearing is rather short. I hope it’s not too windy or I’m going to turn in an ice cube up there. Charlie walks back towards me with his Firebolt in hand and I can see he’s still taking great care of it.

“Ready, freckles?” He sure is, I can read the anticipation all over his features.

I give him a smile and adjust my jacket. “Let’s go, then.”

He mounts his broom and I get behind him, my grip firm on his sides. Taking off is the part I like least, it reminds me of how much I used to be afraid of flying. He gives the ground a kick and suddenly my legs can’t feel anything underneath. I shut my eyes as tight as I can, feeling the wind mess up my hair and run along my thighs. After a few moments, I sense that he’s stopped climbing and I can relax a bit. Charlie is an amazing flyer, maybe even more than Harry. When I open my eyes again we are hovering over big, fluffy clouds, hidden from the few Londoners that could have spotted us at this late hour. I know where we’re going and prepare for the rollercoaster he turns every broom trip into. He is wearing a leather vest over his shirt, but he’s still warm against my chest. I don’t know how he does it, he’s always warm. _And comfortable_. I let out a sigh as I take in the view. Flying is never as good as when he’s driving. After a few minutes of adjusting, he turns back to me and winks, and I know we’re about to get down to business. I hang on tight and let out a gasp as he goes into the first dive. He swirls around, drawing figures in the clouds like his Firebolt is a paintbrush. Red hair is floating in the wind and all of a sudden I’m laughing. It has been long indeed.

After half an hour of messing around in the clouds, I feel him steady the pace and lean forward. I think we’ll be landing soon. As we leave the damp comfort of the summer clouds, the tall grasses come into sight. In a few moments Charlie has landed us and I’m taking in a breath of fresh air. I start towards a large tree with a cozy looking trunk a few strides away and I can hear his heavy footsteps follow behind me. I settle against the hard wooden surface and take off my shoes to let my toes curl in the grass. Charlie sits down next to me clumsily and brings an arm around my shoulders. Warmth envelops me and for a moment I consider sleeping here tonight. _Too comfortable_. I should be noping out of here. Instead, I pluck out some grass and start shredding it between my fingers, conscientiously avoiding looking at his face. His thumb brushes my shoulder and I feel his chest rumble when he clears his throat.

“So, what you been up to?”

So very Charlie, small-talking his way into my head. I shrug.

“Been busy working. I’m actually presenting that law on Centaurs I’ve been preparing tomorrow at three.”

He whistles in appreciation. “Fancy stuff Miss Granger. Can I come?” I snort.

“You really want to sit through a Wizengamot hearing for three hours just so I can put you to sleep with lawyer talk?” I know he hates lawyer talk.

“Sure, seems important to you" My brows furrow.

“You didn’t really care last time”

“I was busy freckles. Lil’ Dorky had just been brought in and he was a feisty one.”

Ah, Charlie and his dragons. But he did spike my interest. I turn my eyes towards him.

“Why did you call him that again?”

“His scales made him look like he had big nerd glasses. Kind of like Harry’s in Hogwarts.”

I let out a bark of laughter. Now I’m imagining a dragon with Harry’s face and awkward attitude. I tell him and it’s his turn to laugh. Conversation starts flowing naturally, as if we hadn’t spent the last five months with zero contact, not even an owl. At one point, I even dropped my head to his chest and he started playing with my hair. It’s going to be tangled as hell tomorrow. Charlie always brings me here when we go flying. It’s a large chunk of fallow land not too far from London, with a few trees around the borders. Over the years, we’ve tried out many different spots around the field, sometimes to talk, mostly to shag. We’ve never been near this tree though, at least I don’t think so. Knowing Charlie, he could have been taking tens of girls to this place, but something tells me that’s not the case.We’ve been talking for a long time when he shifts position almost imperceptibly and I know he’s about to ask me something he really wants to know.

“So, seeing anyone?”

So predictable. _Always the gentleman aren’t you_. I answer like I would tell him the lunch menu.

“Not for a couple months. You?” I’m mentally patting myself on the back at how detached I managed to sound.

“Well kind of, but I don’t get to see her very often.”

My heart misses a beat. But he’s not finished.

“I think deep down she hates me.” There’s a smile in his voice. _Is he fucking talking about me?_

I decide to let it slide with a nod and let out an involuntary yawn. I don’t know what time it is, but I can tell it’s getting really late. Might be time to go.

“Well, take me back home Charlie?”

“Aw already love? The night is young.” He just winked.

“Yeah well, important day tomorrow and all. I need my beauty sleep. Plus, my toes are starting to freeze.”

I get up with a stretch and stop abruptly, whipping around with a mock shocked expression.

“Mister Weasley, did you just put your big dragon tamer hands on my arse?”

He’s smirking. He probably won’t answer that, but his face tells me the real game has just started.

“Want to ride in front?” Sounds nice. But I know what he’s thinking.

I ponder it. I’m not that tired yet, even if I’ll pay for it tomorrow. Do I really want to play tonight? Then again, the wind on my face is something I’ve missed, and he rides like a god.

“You bet!”

I spoke before I was done thinking again. But yeah, I do want to. He’s still smirking, a lot less drunk now than when he showed up at my door. He grabs his broom and mounts it, leaving me space to fit in front. I hop on, my skirt pretty uselessly covering half my bum, and he wraps his arms around mine so we’re grabbing the broom together. I tense up as he gets ready for takeoff, but I start when I realise his mouth is against my ear and he’s licking his lips with a sound that sends tingles to my nape.

“Now then freckles, no closing your eyes this time. You have to enjoy the view.” He almost has me panting with a sentence. _That man is the Devil_. I nod and try to even out my breathing. He kicks the ground and we are off, and I’m sure I’m going to die as we rise up and the tree gets smaller. But I don’t, and suddenly my stomach stops twisting as I see something under us that’s really familiar. I could never forget that turtle-shaped rock even if I wanted to. Boy, I knew we were close, but I didn’t know he had taken us exactly to the spot we… played for the first time. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks and the realisation has my pulse pumping through my ears like the bass line of a pop song, but I try to sound unphased.

“Getting sentimental, Weasley?” He chuckles against my ear and my thighs tighten around the broom.

“I like to remember the good times.”

We’re up high now, tracing through the clouds, and he’s not goofing around like he’s still the Gryffindor Seeker this time around, though he **is** being silly. I think he decided he wants me to fall off, the way his hands are moving against the naked skin of my thighs and slipping inside my blouse. I’m almost unable to concentrate on my surroundings. Almost, because right now I’m driving and I force my eyes to stay open. It’s exhilarating, and when a moan slips out of my mouth I can feel him pressing harder against me. I forgot how much I liked it. Or maybe I didn’t want to remember. I decide tonight I want to go along. Since I’m in charge of pace this time, I slow it down slightly. I know he can tell the difference, but he pretends not to notice, too busy brushing my ear with his soft lips and breathing into it. _Fuck that feels good_.

By the time we reach my street, I’m breathing like I’ve just run a marathon and my skirt is crumpled around my waist like a belt, and I’m not okay with him seeing me like this. I let him dismount first and get behind him to fix my clothes. A few fingers through my hair tell me I should really have tied it, it’s messy as hell and almost standing straight up. I hear the sound of his chuckle before I realise he’s already turned around to face me, cheeks still reddened by the ride. Or is it just the ride? He brings his hands into my curly locks and gets closer, our bodies almost touching.

“I’m not sure you realise how sexy you look with your hair all tousled like that.” Deep, raspy voice. My favourite. I instantly bite my lip in response.

“You only say that because you don’t know how hard it is to tame it.”

I look up at the same time he bends down to grab my lower lip with his teeth, ever so gently. I sigh. This feels amazing. He kisses me this time, soft and electrifying, and I kiss him back harder. Soon we’re tangled in a mess of tongues and lips and teeth against the wall of my building and nothing else matters, his hand is on my bum and I’m pulling on his hair and playing with nails against his neck. But a thought starts to creep up from nowhere and the blissful nothing that had filled my head and I have to stop and push him away from my face. I thought I didn’t care, I told myself a million times over the months, apparently I still do.

“No, no Charlie stop… We can’t… I, ah…” It’s hard to talk with all the heavy breathing going on.

He grunts, almost pleadingly. He isn’t used to being cut short, I know that. Usually it’s either yes or no from the start and he respects it either way, but things have changed, haven’t they?

“Freckles, what’s the matter?”

I place my hands on his chest and push him away more firmly because he's trying to bend down to me again.

“Listen, I can’t do this with you when you’re actually dating someone at the same time.”

“What are you going on about?” He sounds surprised, which I didn’t think a possibility. He always owns up to what he does. It gets me especially annoyed and I remove myself from between his hands pressed against the wall. I feel his gaze follow me but I keep my eyes firmly on his shoulder.

“Charlie, there was an article in Witch Weekly a few months back with pictures of you and your girlfriend. That Harpie’s Chaser Ginny introduced to the Burrow.” Talking about this makes me more uncomfortable than I thought it would.

I figure he’s cocked his head to the side because his hair just got lower, landing on his shoulder. Still won’t look at him though. He crosses his arms, uncrosses them again, puts a hand in his jeans pocket and takes it out again to let it slump by his side.

“What can I say freckles, you got me. Haven’t seen her in about five months but yeah, I still did last time I took you out.”

I sigh in frustration. _What an idiot_. I’m not sure I’m thinking about him, or me, but at least one of us is.

“Seeing anyone now?” I like how that sounded. Almost icy-cold. _Good Granger_.

He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. I look up instinctively, and crap, our eyes lock. Beautiful eyes he’s got, even under the street lights.

“Didn’t think you were particularly jealous, freckles.” He gives a timid smile. “Nope, no one to warm my bed but you, currently.”

I roll my eyes. He’s never completely serious, and I still don’t know if I love or hate that about him.

“Dunno about that, but I’ve got some wine left upstairs if you want.”

He lets out a sigh of relief that most people would miss, but I’m not exactly most people to him, am I? At least I used to think so. He takes my invitation for what it is: not a peace offering, but the promise I won’t throw him out to sleep in the street tonight. He takes my outheld hand, and I Apparate us both directly upstairs, because stairs suck and there’s no one around to see us.

I cringe a bit as we land in the sitting room part of my flat. The table is covered with notes, I haven’t put the bed back in its sofa position, clothes scatter the floor and I’m pretty sure there are more than five unwashed mugs in the sink at the other end of the room. Although, he seems like he couldn’t care less when I glance at him. Still, I’m too embarrassed not to say anything.

“Er, sorry about the mess, I’ve been working extra long hours to finish up my project.”

He waves off my apology and, finding the bottle of wine on my counter, he sniffs it suspiciously. Seemingly satisfied by the stuff, he goes through my cupboards for glasses while I take my shoes off and sit on my bed, legs tucked under me to help them warm up faster.

“Thanks.” I say as he hands me a whiskey tumbler of wine while he cradles a teacup of the stuff himself. My nose wrinkles at the state of my kitchen supplies and I make a mental note to head to Ikea next chance I get. Charlie sits next to me and clinks his cup against mine before taking a sip of red.

We don’t talk for the next minute or so, and the silence is getting pretty heavy. I’m about to say something, just anything, to break the tension, when I feel him clear his throat.

“Yeah. I guess I really do owe you an apology. Should have told you something was going on.” I scoff.

“Don’t you think your girlfriend should’ve had her say in this?”

His hand goes through his hair again. He doesn’t seem comfortable. I conjure an ashtray, a lighter and a pack of cigarettes and and light one, blowing smoke straight in front of me.

“Well the thing is, she never really was my girlfriend. Or more like I never really was her boyfriend. At least we never talked about it. Well I think she thought-”

I cut him off with a grunt. Don’t really want to know, come to think of it.

“I didn’t like feeling like someone’s _Other Woman_.” I shuffle my legs to a better position and pull on my fag again.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Should’ve told you.” He takes his cup to his mouth and my eyes follow the gesture, lingering on his lips when his tongue darts out to lick a red drop off them. Our street activities come back to mind, and I sort of regret the interruption. _Stupid conscience_. I’m still watching his mouth when it forms into a cheeky grin.

“Funny thing is, she put an end to it.” I raise an eyebrow, confused.

“I don’t see how that’s funny.”

“Well, she threw me out of her bed one night to be more precise.” A blush creeps up his neck and cheekbones, but he’s still smiling, looking away. Almost like a child that has to confess a pretty bad prank. I nudge him on with an elbow. “I sort of called out your name when I, well, you know…”

I stare at him round-eyed in disbelief. “You what?” He’s laughing now, and his cheeks almost match his hair in colour. Brutally honest Charlie, as usual.

“Two days after I saw you, we had a shag on a lot of Ogden’s and I got her a little confused with you. She didn’t like it. Threw me out then and there.”

I hide my face in my hands and moan through them. “Why would you tell me that, Charlie?”

His answer startles me, mostly because I didn’t expect it this close to my face. “See, no need to be jealous. Can’t stop thinking of you.” By now I’m pretty sure he made it up to embarrass me, although I don’t really get why I’m the one so embarrassed. I squish my face in my hands for a few seconds then look up again and sip a good amount of my wineglass.

_Cheeky prat._

I can be cheeky too. Moving to face him, I take on my snarkiest grin and look straight in the eye.

“So you’re telling me you think about me when you’re fucking other witches.” He raises an eyebrow at my change of composure, but his eyes focus on mine and his lips curl up.

“It’s possible this has happened.”

“You’re an asshole.” Didn’t mean to sound so blunt.

“Well, I think we both knew that. But you can’t tell me I’m a heartless asshole.” He’s winking at me. _The nerve of that one_ “Seriously though. You’ve been on my mind for ages, I would’ve come visit earlier if I had the time.” He says it so matter-of-factly he could be joking, if it weren’t for that look back on his face. I think it’s the slightly furrowed brow that reminds me of James Dean. Still not sure though. It’s quite dreamy any way.

I feel myself melting to the sound of his voice. I try a shy smile. “I’ve been there too, a few times.”

His eyebrow is up again and he’s inching closer. “Really now freckles, you’ve been thinking of me?”

I think I just gave up on sleep for tonight. I smirk back and give him a silent challenge.

“And what if I have?” He’s moving closer still and I sit still, shoulders set.

“Watcha been thinking about exactly?” His face is inches away from mine. I feel adventurous right now.

“How about I show you?” I talked slowly, all the while nearing his lips, so they’d meet mine just as I was done talking. He kisses me back instantly and I sigh in the kiss like a thirteen-year-old in the Astronomy Tower. It starts off slow and gentle, like we need to get reacquainted, but we’re soon tangled up in a heated kiss and I don’t know how it happened but all of a sudden my back is pressed against the wall facing my bed, my leg up to his hip and pressing him hard into me. I’m moaning into the kiss and he answers by biting my lower lip. I grip his hair tight and am rewarded with a low growl that vibrates against my chest. Hottest thing ever.

We break apart eventually for air and I push him back to my bed with a last kiss while I remain standing in front of him.

I put up a demanding finger. “Stay.” Is that my voice? I almost don’t recognise it, it’s so deep. I can tell he likes it by the way he just clenched his jaw.

I proceed to undo the buttons of my top, very slowly, and I feel like a godess by the way he stares without moving, like I Petrified him. I take all my time before I reveal my bra and he instinctively bites his lip. He makes me feel like I’m a fucking treasure he’s been looking for all his life. I like it. I kick my socks off and start running my hands over my chest, my breasts, my sides and hips, and is breathing turns hoarse. The sight of him turns me on in a way I never thought possible. His legs are spread and there is a very apparent bulge between them. I’m about to undo my skirt when his voice startles me.

“Leave it on.” He looks like he’s about to devour me. I bite my lip and do as he says. I let go of the zipper and bend down forward, getting rid of my panties in one fluid motion. I hear his gasp and smile to the ground at what I manage to do to him. When we make eye contact again, there is so much tension in the small room I could probably touch it. We just stare at each other for a moment, him sitting on the bed resting on his elbows, and me standing in front of him in my skirt and bra, feeling my thighs getting wet. Then all of a sudden time starts moving again, he springs up to remove his jacket and I walk to him. And then we crash. There is really no other word to describe it. Hi lips are on mine and we are kissing fiercely, the passion turning into a battle of tongues and lips and teeth.

I reach behind him and pull his T-shirt over his head. “I want to see it.” I can’t really speak right now, so I breathe it in his ear. He knows what I’m talking about and removes the piece of fabric in a split second. I take a step back, hands on his chest, to admire it. The tattoo starts on his back, so I can’t see the whole thing, but I get a good view of the dragon’s majestic wings and head spread over the left of his chest, breathing fire down his side. I trace it with my fingers, feathery touches outlining the beast, before pressing my body back against his and poking my tongue around the edges of the dragon. Charlie growls, low, almost menacing. Sometimes, he’s just as much dragon at he is man. I continue my ministrations while my hand slides innocently down his stomach, feeling the strong muscles as I go. By the time he catches on to what I’m doing, it’s too late for him to stop me as I’ve unbuttoned his jeans and wrapped a firm hand around his hard length. I knew he wouldn’t be wearing boxers. Never does. My mouth has moved from his pectoral to his jugular and I leave a trail of wet kisses and small bites up the side of his neck while my hand starts pumping around his cock. So. Fucking. Hard. He’s past groaning now and no sounds exit his mouth anymore. I can’t see his face from where I am, but I think I know exactly what it’s like and I smile into his neck. I want to make him lose control.

His nails are digging across my back. I’ll have to remember to wear something covering tomorrow at the hearing. I wouldn’t have him stop for anything though. I’m still going on with my little taunting game when he lets out a roar. An actual roar. It sends shivers all the way down my spine and the ache already settled between my legs intensifies instantly. He grabs my bum fiercely under the miniskirt and digs deep into my flesh. I’ve just released the dragon. Charlie circles my waist with his arms and lift me to him. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively as he presses me against the wall, jeans falling to the floor and tossed aside with a precise kick. If I could think about things right now I would wonder why he’s not taking me to the bed right behind him, but coherent thought isn’t on the menu. He’s taken one of my breasts out of my simple black bra and he’s brushing his lips against it, making me wait for it. Bastard. I groan, he chuckles. That wanker is taking revenge. My chest shoots up to meet his mouth in sync with my hips rocking to make contact with his wood.

“Oh come on!” The frustrated words came out of their own accord and Charlie didn’t miss them. He raises his eyes to mine and I can read the wanting and the playfulness in those startling blue irises of his. I grab his mouth and bite it hard, drawing a muffled sound from him. His eyes are so dark when we break the kiss I hardly recognise him. I look deep into his pupils and speak in slow, deliberate words.

“Fuck. Me. Now.” His eyes open wide and right then he loses it completely. I don’t break eye contact when he pushes into me, in one motion, only stopping when he is inside entirely. I let out a strangled gasp when the pleasure burst through me, and my eyes want to close but I’m not having it. I want to watch his face change and know I’m the one responsible. My nails are digging into his back now and I think I might even add a new scar or two to his collection. He doesn’t give me time to adjust and sets a rapid pace instantly, squashing me into the wall a bit more with every thrust. His stare is wild and sweat starts to bead on his forehead. I’ll soon feel it on mine as well. He is powerful and demanding, and for every scream he gets out of me he grunts back. I hope the neighbours are sleeping.

His pace slows down over the next minutes until I’m squirming, demanding more. I feel his muscles start to shake.

“I can’t go on like this much longer. My arms are gonna give out” He has a different voice now, speaking and whispering in turn. I nod, holding him tight as we stop moving, Charlie buried deep inside me. I give him a wicked grin as I clench my walls a few times so he has trouble concentrating on my words.

“How do you want me?” He licks his lips before he answers, but I think I already know what he’ll say.

“On all fours.” Merlin, that voice. It’s low and demanding and husky.

I smirk. Got it right. I gesture to the bed and it’s all it takes for him to carry me over and drop me on the bed, shaking the effort out of his arms and ridding me of the rest of my clothing. I let him look at me for a moment, I know he loves the sight, and then slowly turn around to show him my back. I feel his calloused hands grab the flesh on my hips and caress my bum and I move under his fingers.

“You minx.” His hands harden on my sides and without warning, he’s in me again and I’m crying out from the pangs of pleasure erupting with each powerful thrust. I grab handfuls of pillow and bite in to muffle my screams but it’s really useless. His pace is picking up and his body slams into mine harder each time; I know he’s getting close. The tension in my loins tells me I am too, so I start clenching and unclenching in a random pattern.

“Oh, oh Hermione… Carry on like that and I’m gonna die right here right now.” He’s almost begging, I’m not sure if it’s to stop or go on. The second option is better though. When I answer with a laugh and show no sign of stopping he growls, deep and throaty, and bends over so his chest is touching my back, in a replay of our earlier flying game. One of his hands leave my hip and dips between my legs, searching for my clit, circling it with powerful fingers when he finds it. I whimper and bite back on the pillow, feeling every nerve in my body take fire. Now I’m screaming, coming completely undone in the double pleasure, and I think the wave is just about to hit. I’ve got sweat all over. Charlie’s panting hard too and pushing into me almost violently. He’s mumbling incoherent -but clearly very, very dirty- things in my ear, when suddenly he lets out a cry and bites on my shoulder. I feel his cock jolt inside me, and my own walls break down.

For a moment, I’m lost in time and space, my body is drowned in an ocean of pleasure and my mind is wandering across the Universe. I hear some distant cries and they could very well be mine. When I come down from my high, I find myself still on my hands and knees, with Charlie holding me in a tight embrace. Did he just bite me? I’ll have to investigate. In the meantime, I’m completely out of breath and my whole body is shaking. Smaller waves of pleasure keep traveling through my body, letting a soft moan cross my lips every time. He slowly releases me from the heat of his arms and falls on the bed sweaty and panting, face flushed under the sea of freckles. I lie down next to him, too hot for full contact but not willing to let go just yet. There’s a pool of sticky warm fluid forming between my thighs but right now I couldn’t care less. We stay staring at the ceiling, my hand on his chest and his leg over mine, for a minute. Or was it an hour? I reach my face to clear out some of the sweat and am surprised there are tears mixed in. I let out a nervous laugh as I brush them out.

“Hm?” Charlie looks over at me with a question in his eyes he’s not able to formulate just yet. I give him my biggest smile in return.

“I think I just had the biggest orgasm of my life.” For some reason I feel very giggly right now.

He cracks a smug smile, visibly taking it as a huge compliment.

“Didndoo toobadmeself…” he mumbles, catching my fingers in his hands. It’s a tender moment, I’d like it to go on forever. Unfortunately, I am very aware of the birds that start to chirp outside my window, and that the blue light from the neon sign has now been replaced by the grey tones of dawn. I squeeze his fingers and roll over to plant a sweet kiss on his reddened lips. Did I do that? He kisses me back with a moan, strokes my shoulder and back with the flat of his hand, and then lets go. He’s aware the sun is rising too. I get up laboriously and make my way to the bathroom, the only other room in my flat, on very shaky legs, and turn on the shower in slow motion. I feel numb, but it’s a good kind of numb. I let the water spill over my head, clearing the happy fog in my mind. That was just awesome.

When I’m washed and rinsed, I step back out and can’t do anything but smile. Charlie has rolled onto the side facing me, covers brought up to the middle of his chest, and his even breathing indicates he is deep in sleep. He is truly beautiful in that moment. The first rays of sun are hitting the tips of his hair. It almost looks golden from where I’m sitting on the side of the bed. The scars on his shoulders and arms shine against the sun, and the freckles covering his whole body -so many of them it looks like a tan, but I’ve seen them up close too many times to make that mistake- stand out against the white sheets. His face is probably the most beautiful part though. It’s completely relaxed and calm, eyes closed and forehead void of worry lines. He has very soft features really. Long, straight nose, delicate arcades lined by a healthy line of ginger hair, plump lips resting in a small pout. Truly, sleeping Charlie is quite a sight. I reach a hand to his face and trace the lines of his jaw, his forehead, his nose and his mouth by the tip of my fingers, careful not to wake him. Finally I snuggle in close, feeling him adapt to my body in his sleep and wrap me in that constant warmness of his. Good thing my wand is at hand’s reach, because I never want to move again. I summon my phone to me and set an alarm. 10:30 should be enough. Get up, put on something nice, Apparate, defend Centaur rights, come back to bed. Easy enough. As I drift to sleep, I can’t help but go over the night’s events and a small smile creeps up my face as it relaxes. _Gotta admit, we've got style._

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you liked it. Constructive criticism very welcome :) I got the idea for this fic listening to a song, ten points to your House if you guessed ! I have ideas for a second part, as long as other stories based on songs I heard that may or may not be from the same album. (I may or may not be a bit obsessed at the moment)


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